


Measured and Found Wanting

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), The Lone Gunmen (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Play, Drinking, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-17 11:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: Byers has a problem: Langly's getting laid. And not just getting laid, but fairly regularly getting banged against the shared bathroom wall. And Byers knows he shouldn't be, but he can't help listening. It's all right, as long as he doesn't come -- or that's what he tells himself.Langly has a problem: Byers has been more and more stupid and distracted, over the last few days. Finally, Byers says it's because he can't sleep with all the fucking noise -- the entirely literal fucking noise. So, Langly stops fucking at home, for a week.Byers doesn't get any better, without the noise, because now he's distracted by the lack of it. Langly decides it's time to try a different solution to this problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ambiguously_anomalous](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ambiguously_anomalous) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Byers is really into edging and denial, insomuch as he's into anything. And after decades living in a bunker with him, Langly and Frohike quite pointedly try to ignore that they know when he's really starting to push it.
> 
> Maybe it's the stress, maybe a ley line is acting up, or maybe it's the change in dynamics and the fact that there is Very Loud Sex nearby, but Byers has been pushing himself too long lately, and he's really starting to get on their nerves. They need to get _someone_ who will take care of this...
> 
> Preference for m/m, absolutely down with moresomes, and feel free to make it as kinky as you want. :D

Byers was hard. Achingly, devastatingly, distractingly hard, and he kept his eyes on his breakfast and his chair pulled in close to the table, hoping neither Frohike nor Langly would notice. Getting out of the chair, after breakfast, was going to be the difficult part, but given that he'd gotten into the chair without making a spectacle of himself, it was probably going to be easier. But, no less hard, at this rate.  
  
Langly was talking, probably about something relatively important, but Byers kept his eyes on his bacon and eggs, trying not to look at the source of an inordinate amount of the tension in his body. Langly and Reid had been going at it all night, and Byers's room shared the bathroom wall. That slow, hard fuck in the shower had been so close he could almost see it in the sounds of squeaking porcelain.  
  
As long as he didn't come, he told himself, it wasn't actually wrong. It wasn't voyeurism, when they were _that loud_. Even if he had been in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, just in case. Even if he had been imagining water on skin, the lines of Reid's thighs when they tensed, the face Langly probably made that went with that sound.  
  
"Earth to Byers..." Langly bounced a wadded up napkin off Byers's forehead.  
  
"What?" Byers blinked a few times, picking the napkin out of his plate as he looked up, guiltily.  
  
"What is _with_ you lately?" Langly demanded, jamming his fork through a pile of bacon and gesturing at Byers with it. "You're always distracted. When is the last time you were paying attention, because I promise it wasn't last week, when you sent a half-finished work order to Muringa, and you're _lucky_ she called about that. And you look guilty, which I'd think is because you keep screwing up, but it's you, and I know that look. You _did something_ , and now you're too busy thinking about it to focus on anything else."  
  
Frohike plucked a strip of bacon off Langly's fork and folded it into his mouth. "You do look pretty guilty. You only get that look when you've done something really stupid."  
  
"What? No! I'm not _guilty_!" Byers's eyes widened in offence, a glimmer of fear around the edges. "I'm just not getting enough sleep because Langly can't keep it in his pants! I'm buying you a ball gag. This is ridiculous. I'm just _tired_."  
  
"We're not that loud." Langly's eyes narrowed, and he put down the fork, watching Byers.  
  
"You kind of are," Frohike admitted.  
  
"Oh, no. We're loud enough that you can _hear_ us, but we're not loud enough to keep either of you awake." Langly rested his elbow on the table, leaning in as he held up a finger. " _Byers_ has slept through us _grinding metal_. _Byers_ can sleep through the goddamn _bandsaw_. I promise you, we're not louder than the bandsaw."  
  
"I was sick, then," Byers muttered, picking at his eggs. "I could've slept through a rocket launch."  
  
"And, what, now you're back to some princess and the pea shit?" Langly scoffed. "Uh-uh. No. The walls aren't that good, and the echoes are horrible, but if I can blast a Dead Kennedys album in the workroom without disturbing you, which I've done while you've been well and sober, we are not too loud."  
  
"I don't share a wall with the workroom!" Byers complained.  
  
"It's louder and more constant noise! The echoes are worse!" Langly argued, finally stuffing the bacon in his mouth as Frohike reached for it again.  
  
"Either way, for some reason, your fucking is keeping him up at night." Frohike cleared his throat and shot Byers a side-eyed look.  
  
"It's gross!" Byers protested, trying not to think of Reid's shy smiles or the way he moaned when Langly pushed into him. That sound was tattooed into his memory. He'd never forget it. Never in his life had he imagined anyone making a sound like that for _Langly_. And, not that he'd ever admit it, it had made him more than a little curious. "It's not just loud, it's gross! Nobody wants to hear you begging for more, except maybe Reid, who is _in the room with you_."  
  
He wouldn't admit it. He wouldn't admit that he loved hearing it, loved listening to Langly coming apart, a little at a time, over and over. That was disgusting, not Langly. It was disgusting that he wanted it; it was disgusting that he listened to it. And he didn't really want it to stop, but if he didn't put up a strong enough argument, one of them would figure it out.  
  
"Fine." Langly's lips pressed into a thin line. "A week with no fucking. Get some sleep. We'll see if that's your problem."  
  
Byers's stomach dropped.


	2. Chapter 2

A whole week without the sound of sex. On the one hand, Byers was almost relieved -- the temptation would finally stop. On the other hand, he'd already been tempted, filled with desires for things he couldn't have, and one more had been taken away. But, only for a week. He could endure a week.  
  
He woke up, the first night, to silence, an incomprehensible dream still clamouring for his attention, to the realisation that it would have been a wet dream, if it had gone on just a little longer. Even in his sleep, he held the line, which meant he'd probably been dreaming of Langly and Reid. His pyjamas were twisted, and the weight of cloth against him, that tension against his skin was almost too much. He teetered on the edge, visions of Langly open-mouthed with bliss leaning hard against the backs of his eyes.  
  
But, he forced his legs to relax, heart still pounding, and dared a few gentle strokes, palming himself through the cloth. How good would it feel, if that were someone else's hand? How good would it feel to have Dr Reid's hand pressed against him, slowly teasing and tempting? He knew Langly had gone out, tonight -- that somewhere else they were having the same raw, desperate sex, but he couldn't listen. And that was the way it was supposed to be, he was certain. That was for them, not for him. But, when they offered the sound so freely... could anyone say he was wrong to enjoy it?  
  
His hips rocked against his palm, and he pulled his hand away, regretfully. As long as he didn't come. _That_ wasn't for him. _That_ would be crossing a line.  
  
By the third day, Byers was even more distracted than he'd been, shifting uncomfortably at the sound of Langly's voice reading off the latest stock reports and explaining some unusual decisions he'd made with their money. Byers knew he needed to be paying attention, that he needed to be arguing about anything that might negatively affect their technically not-so-fake-any-more corporation. There should've been nothing in the world more boring than Langly reading stock reports, but Byers could hear the shifts in tone as Langly prattled on about numbers and eating the rich, dim amusement and caustic annoyance, and Byers could remember hearing those same tones through the wall, as Langly teased and demanded.  
  
He'd been fine, when he sat down, but the longer Langly went on, the tighter Byers's pants seemed to become. He could adjust that, he was sure, but the disappearance of one of his hands from the table would spark an inquiry. Someone was going to make a joke about it, and Byers really wasn't sure he could handle that, right now. This was so incredibly inappropriate, and he needed to find a way to make it stop.  
  
By the end of the fifth day, Byers had managed more inappropriate boners than he'd ever had in high school, and everything he'd learned in ninth grade paid off once again, as he just walked around with a case file in his hands all day, holding it in front of himself as necessary. Reid had loaned him the non-classified parts of a closed case to reference in a paper he was writing about the role of certain chemicals in particular types of bone fracturing. It was something to do with his time -- not everything could be cryptids and aliens, however much he still wanted Langly to let him write about those new networking superpowers.  
  
A cryptid, he reminded himself. Langly was a cryptid, now, and probably always had been, and that meant he wasn't such a far step from Mulder and all the jokes about bigfoot documentaries. He should probably feel even worse about himself -- he wanted to have sex with a cryptid. On the other hand, he also wanted to have sex with the incredibly intelligent and entirely human (as far as anyone could tell) Dr Reid, who was both less available and far less distracting. On the other other hand, which was one more hand than he had, he could just go indulge himself with a quick flip through Frohike's monumental collection of freshly-digitised porn from from a time in which the three of them had been much more inclined to use it for its intended purpose. Some well-curated vintage photographs involving beautiful women in various states of undress and activity might be the solution to this problem.  
  
But, that wouldn't be the same certainty. He wouldn't be able to say he'd overcome the problem righteously, properly, with nothing but his will. It would happen again.  
  
On the seventh day, Byers was sorting cryptid sightings on the kitchen table, marking them on the map, and looking for patterns. He was almost all right. Nearly. A little more of this and maybe he'd come to his senses, put it all behind him. And speaking of 'behind him', Langly was on the other side of the kitchen, cooking and talking on the phone. Talking to Reid, no doubt. Byers cursed under his breath. He just needed a few more days, but Langly had offered seven, and this was the last.  
  
He was almost over it. He'd be fine. He could ignore them.


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't ignore them.  
  
God, how had he ever imagined he could ignore them? Langly was right there, right on the other side of the wall, bent over his own sink with Reid deep inside him, making little sounds of frustration between breathless demands for more and harder.  
  
Byers leaned against the sink, eyes closed, stroking himself slowly and gently -- not too rough or he'd break the one rule he had for this. Just enough to let him imagine it, imagine their hands on him, imagine being pinned between them. How would it feel, he wondered, to be taken like that, like Langly obviously liked to be? How might it feel to be taken by Langly? That never lasted long, but who would, the way Reid moaned just so? Even now, Byers could almost taste that sound, and the thought of it nudged him even closer.  
  
"I want you to fuck me so deep I can taste it when you come!" Langly howled, ragged panting audible right through the wall.  
  
Byers slammed his hips tight against the corner of the counter, trusting that the sudden pain would be enough. It almost wasn't. The rush was incredible, but the bite followed just after, the sharp reminder that he was doing something terribly wrong, that he'd come so close to doing something even more wrong. The shame made the next touch of his hand a nearly revolting feeling -- what was he doing? -- but it still felt so good. He wondered if he could make Langly scream like that, if Langly would want to taste him ... and then he buried the thought. Even if this wasn't wrong, it was completely inappropriate.  
  
And then he heard Reid's voice, pitched lower than all the howling and pleading, but not so quiet the words didn't carry through the vent. "Shh, I thought you said Byers could hear us."  
  
But, that didn't sound like an admonishment. It almost sounded like a tease. And the next sound from Langly was a low, guttural moan, devoid of anything pretending to be a word.  
  
"I wonder if he knows how many drinks it takes, before you want him just. like. this."  
  
And Byers could hear the clipped gasps -- _ah!_ \-- that gave away the thrusts used to punctuate the last few words. And then the meaning of those words sank in. Langly wanted him? Did that change anything? If Langly had to be drunk to want him, did that invalidate it? If he suggested a satisfying solution, would Langly accept it? Would Reid be angry? Would _Langly_ be angry?  
  
"Five." Langly's breathy laugh ended in some raw sound Byers might otherwise have taken for pain.  
  
What if Langly actually did want him? Was this a fantasy he wanted to make real? Would it be worth it? Would it ruin everything they had?  
  
Of course, he had to ask himself the same about continuing down this obvious path to madness, which definitely was ruining everything they had.  
  
But, no. No, he'd say nothing. This wasn't real -- this was some weird part of their fantasy, some exhibitionist streak he couldn't be surprised by, after everything he'd heard. No, nothing would come of this, least of all him. He tucked himself back into his trousers, still aching hard and shivering at every brush of fingers and cloth, as Langly howled his second climax on the other side of the wall. Byers gripped the edge of the sink in both hands, willing himself steady. His chest ached with wanting, and his boner throbbed in painful agreement.  
  
Reid was quieter, but still audible -- breathy, half-swallowed words that might not have been nonsense if they were just a little louder. And Byers found his head full of images, speculation on what that would look like, how Reid's throat might move with those words, how his mouth might stretch around those panting breaths. Of how his mouth might stretch around-- Byers clamped his thighs together and leaned forward, digging the edge of his fist into his crotch. No. Not now. He'd been so good...  
  
A tiny sob wrenched out of him as he dragged himself back, once again, and he paled as his eyes met the mirror, realising he could be heard on the other side.  
  
There was vodka in the freezer, he remembered. He'd wait a few hours to be sure they were asleep, and then he'd go have a few drinks. With any luck, he'd sleep straight through to morning, and no one would say a word. At worst, he could say he'd had a nightmare and got up to blow his nose. But, that wouldn't be true, and he was a terrible liar, especially when Langly was on the other end of it. Maybe he'd leave the bottle on the counter and claim to be hung over and have no memory of the night before. That seemed ... less likely to backfire.  
  
But, first, he'd wait. Just long enough to be sure. The last thing he wanted was to run into one of them in the hall.


	4. Chapter 4

Byers had his head down as he came into the kitchen, so it was far too late by the time he spotted Langly sitting at the far end of the table, with Reid over the corner from him, both of them eyeing him like intrigued cats. Five bottles stood in a line in front of Langly, and the sixth was open in his hand.  
  
Byers froze, almost to the fridge.  
  
"Thought I'd have a few drinks before I went to bed," Langly explained, with a half-shrug, taking a long swallow of beer.  
  
"Maybe you'd like to join us?" Reid suggested, and Langly kicked out the chair opposite Reid's.  
  
"I'm... I just..." Byers sputtered, pointing to the fridge.  
  
"We were trying to be quieter, this time." More beer went into Langly, emptying the bottle he held.  
  
"Of course, if you were in the bathroom, you might've overheard some things..." Reid nearly managed to look apologetic, as Langly counted the bottles on the table, tapping them firmly with the bottle he still held.  
  
"If I did, I'd never mention them to anyone. That would be wrong," Byers assured them, swallowing nervously.  
  
"Of course you wouldn't." Reid sat up a little straighter. "You're an incredibly honourable person."  
  
Langly traded the empty for a fresh bottle and leaned the edge of the cap on the table, before he slammed his hand down on it. "Two," he said, tipping the bottle at Byers, as if making a toast.  
  
Reid glanced at the bottles, as if counting them for the first time. "Six, not five." He picked one up and offered it to Byers. "Would you join us?"  
  
Byers eyed the bottle as if it were a trap. They were both brilliant and an extremely bad idea to anger. Reid, at least, was deadly. Langly, he knew, got a little sick at the thought and a lot sick at the actuality, so this probably wasn't going to end in anything more horrible than threats to have him mailed to Puerto Vallarta, which at least Langly had survived, that one time.  
  
He swallowed again, certain that no matter what happened, this conversation would be uncomfortable, at best. Hesitantly, he got the bottle opener from the drawer and crossed the kitchen as though it were the Rubicon, putting on a far braver face than he deserved, before he slid into the seat that had been kicked out and took a bottle that wasn't the one Reid was holding.  
  
"You're screwing with me, because you know I heard you, and I wasn't supposed to." Byers took three attempts to get the bottle open. "I'm sorry, I was just... in the bathroom. Doing... bathroom things." He was sure he could say that. Masturbating was definitely a 'bathroom thing', in his book.  
  
"Listening." Langly tipped back half the beer. "So you know exactly what I'm doing."  
  
"He's pretty convinced you've been listening to us having sex." Reid's face remained somewhere in the vicinity of apologetic. "Intentionally."  
  
"And us not being loud next door hasn't helped at all, and don't tell me it has, Byers, I've been watching you all week. You've been dumber than a box of rocks and limping around with a boner and a look like you shot somebody's dog, so either that's serious and needs a doctor, or you're just... doing this to yourself on purpose, for some reason. So, I'm volunteering to solve this problem." Langly leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and his ankles under the table. "With my dick."  
  
Byers choked on his first swallow of beer, leaning to the side not to spit it into his lap. "I'm sorry, _what_?"  
  
"Look, if you want us so bad, you could've just said something. Thirty years, Byers, I've heard worse ideas come out of your mouth. There's no reason to cripple yourself and sulk around with a boner hoping I'd notice and take pity."  
  
Reid pointed across his chest at Langly. "One more beer, and he'll be talking about how beautiful your eyes are. I know this. I've heard this."  
  
Byers counted. "That's only three. How have I never heard this?"  
  
"Because you're not interested. I'm not going to tell _you_." Langly huffed, as if it were obvious. The last of the second beer disappeared and he reached for the third, holding up a finger as he turned aside to belch.  
  
"Langly, you idiot, you are not drinking five beers," Byers rolled his eyes and got up. "You'll explode. I'm getting the vodka, if you're going to insist on doing this."  
  
While Byers had his back turned, Langly raised his eyebrows at Reid, who smiled faintly and cocked his head in acknowledgement that Langly had it right.  
  
"And another thing, if you're not going to tell me, because I'm ... 'not interested'," Byers slammed the frosty bottle on the table, "then what on god's green earth makes you think I'm going to tell you?"  
  
"Maybe the part where you're a terrible liar and your mouth leaks faster than my dick?" Langly picked up the vodka, looked at it, looked at the third beer, and then slapped the cap off the beer before tipping a little vodka into it. Nah, he'd have to drink some first.  
  
"That is..." Byers blinked slowly and stared, as the rest of the sentence caught up.  
  
Reid almost smiled, but managed to awkwardly stretch one corner of his mouth instead. "That's impossible. He'd  never shut up."  
  
Langly shot a baleful look at Reid and took a long drink, topping off the bottle, before he shoved the rest of the bottles down the table, so he wouldn't forget, when it all hit at once. "Anyway, yeah, I think you're pretty cute, once the beer goggles go on, so if you want a piece of that, you should probably tell me now, so I know whether I'm finishing the Russian donkey piss."  
  
"Grey Goose," Byers pointed out. "It's French."  
  
" _French_ donkey piss, because that makes it so much more posh." Langly turned a flat look on Byers. "Seriously, are you in?"  
  
Byers took a long look at the beer in his hand, and then a long swallow. "I'm in. If anyone asks, we were shitfaced and remember nothing."  
  
"Reid?" Langly gave Reid a long look, giving him one more chance to object.  
  
"Five drinks says I'm watching, to make sure you don't die doing something stupid." Reid raised a finger in Byers's direction. "That's not optional."  
  
Byers did his best not to look starry-eyed at the idea, the rest of his face as serious as he could manage. "I'm not going to object to safety. Thank you."  
  
Langly sighed, looking back at Reid. "He thinks you're hot. I know that look."  
  
Byers huffed and flustered. "Are you surprised? You're the one dating him!"  
  
"That's very flattering, but my pants are staying on."  
  
Byers cleared his throat and studied his beer, intently, cheeks colouring. "Can the... sweater vest go back on, too?"  
  
"Oh my god." Langly picked up the third bottle and didn't stop drinking until it was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And 1100 words into the _next_ chapter, so I thought I'd get the beginning of this off my desk. The rest will come soon. (And so will Byers.)


	5. Chapter 5

Byers knew exactly how he'd gotten where he was, but he put it out of his mind, looking that last inch up at Langly, who was rapidly getting drunker. Reid lounged in one corner of the couch, with a cup of coffee, a silent observer, and Byers noticed he'd gotten properly dressed, sweater vest on and cuffs buttoned. But, Langly still looked like he was considering the situation.  
  
"Tell me what you want, Byers." Langly looked entirely impassive, and Byers wasn't sure he was comfortable with that at all. "If I'm going to give you a good time, I have to know what a good time looks like. For you. I'm ... completely sure what a good time looks like for me."  
  
"Surprise me," Byers said and Langly opened his mouth, face set to argue. "No, I mean that's... That's not I don't have an opinion. That... is my opinion. Well, not really... _surprise_... Warn me. Tell me what you're going to do. Put..." He looked at the floor on the other side of the room. "Put me where you want me."  
  
"You just really don't want any of the responsibility for this, do you?" Langly grabbed Byers by the tie and pulled sharply, letting Byers stumble toward him. "You've always wanted someone else in charge. Working for the government? You wanted someone else to make the rules, and you still want it now, don't you?"  
  
Byers tried to nod, but the angle Langly held his tie at didn't make it easy. God, Langly pulling on his tie was something he'd never even considered, but now that it was happening, most of the thoughts seemed to dribble out his ears. "Show me what you want. Show me how to do it the way you like," he begged, hearing the pleading in his own voice.  
  
"Go take a piss, before we start." Langly let go of Byers's tie. "Because I don't want you peeing on the floor if I forget to tell you to go, later. And it's the last time you're going to get to touch your dick until I'm good and ready to let you."  
  
Byers tried to control the surprised gasp when his knees threatened to stop holding him up, but he only got about as far as breathing through it, a long shuddering breath that sounded nothing like control. He'd never imagined Langly like this, at once dismissive and demanding, and then it slowly occurred to him that was _exactly_ what Langly was like, he just hadn't considered it in this context. That was the look Langly got when he had a project, and Byers realised he was the project, and this wasn't going to stop until Langly was absolutely done. He folded his hands over his crotch and edged nervously toward the bathroom.  
  
"Oh, no, you don't get to cover yourself." Langly's eyes narrowed. "Your dick's enough of a problem that this is happening, so I want to see it. You've been trying to hide this boner for two weeks or, if not this one, the several before it. You want this? You'd better get used to the idea that I'm looking. I want to see how hard you get thinking about me."  
  
Byers actually whimpered, eyes widening in that classic look of betrayal, that Langly had seen enough of to last a lifetime. But, his hands moved and his shoulders squared, as Langly's eyes lingered on his tented pants.  
  
"Careful you don't pee on the floor," Langly teased, eyes jumping back up to Byers's.  
  
"I've been doing this all week," Byers gritted out, as he turned his back and walked almost steadily into the bathroom. "I know how it works."  
  
As soon as the door closed, Langly shot a panicked look at Reid and gestured after Byers.  
  
Reid held up a thumb and nodded reassuringly. "You're better at this than I expected," he whispered, loud enough to be heard halfway across the room.  
  
"Thank Frohike's gigantic collection of dominatrix videos, because that's all I've got," Langly hissed back, eyes wide and intense.  
  
Reid struggled with a smile, before finally giving up. "Sorry, just... imagining you in..." His eyebrows arched, and he waved up and down Langly's height. "... leather."  
  
Langly clapped both hands over his face, putting fingerprints on his glasses, and made an utterly agonised sound. He cleared his throat and straightened up, as he heard the toilet flush, taking his glasses off and trying to clean them on his shirt. He was still squinting at a smear, when Byers returned, but he put the glasses back on, anyway, pretending he hadn't just functionally blinded himself on the left.  
  
Crooking his finger at Byers, he raised his eyebrow, trying to recreate the smugly superior look that seemed to be a staple of porn involving women with leather corsets and whips. Of course, he usually looked smugly superior, so it wasn't much of a stretch.  
  
"Tell me something, Byers," he said, when Byers was back in front of him, looking down just that inch or two between them. "How do you feel about sucking dick?"  
  
"I don't... really have anything to base an opinion on?" Byers swallowed, eyes on the sliver of floor between them, jumping up when Langly grabbed his tie again.  
  
"You want a reason to have an opinion?" Langly pulled down on the tie, strongly suggesting, but not forcing. "You want me to give you a dick to suck?"  
  
Byers shivered with some combination of nervousness and desire. He knew Langly was being gentle with him, and some part of him appreciated that, wanted Langly even more because of it. But, the weight of Langly's unmoving fist around his tie was so much more compelling, and he sank to his knees, letting Langly drag him down, hands closed against his thighs.  
  
"Go on," Langly encouraged, passing the tie between his legs to his other hand, so it wouldn't be in the way, but he could still keep his grip. "Take it out. If you want this, show me you want it. Show me how much you want me in your mouth."  
  
The shiver became far more pronounced, a tremor of uncertainty that shook Byers through and through. But, this was really happening, and he ... probably wanted it. He definitely wanted Langly, but this hadn't crossed his mind, and it probably should have. He slid his hands up Langly's thighs and opened the button at eye-level. The smell of sex was powerful as he worked his way down the rest of the buttons, and he could feel himself throb against his thigh at the thought of just burying his face in that scent. Langly was well on his way to stiff, a few wet spots already marked on his boxers, and Byers took a long moment to settle himself with the idea that he was inches from someone else's cock. But, he slipped his hand in and untucked it, looking up for approval.  
  
"It's yours if you want it." Langly stroked Byers's cheek with his free hand, gazing down with that uncanny detachment he got while he was working. "Come on, kiss it." No, those weren't the words he was looking for. "Kiss me. Kiss my dick, Byers."  
  
And Byers's hands sank back into his lap as he leaned forward and gently touched his lips to the head, still looking up as best he could.  
  
"Hands on me," Langly demanded, in an excellent impression of impassivity. "What did I say about touching yourself?"  
  
Byers swallowed hard, eyes fluttering as he dragged his hands back up, fingers digging into Langly's thighs. His whole body wanted. Just... wanted. Not even any particular act, just anything, attention, touch, improbable demands. He pressed his face against Langly's jeans, just trying to breathe the smell of him, to put his lips against the base of that hard, hot flesh that stretched along his cheek. He knew there was something fundamentally wrong with this, with wanting this, with having gotten to a place where being on his knees with Langly pulling on his tie -- oh, god, Langly _pulling on his tie_! -- and his face mashed against his best friend's hard-on was at all reasonable. But, it was so good, he could feel that slow, warm coil starting in the bowl of his hips.  
  
"You look good like this," Langly said, as Byers tipped his head back to place a kiss further up the shaft and took a smear across his eyebrow that ran down his cheek. And Langly had a split-second's regret that he hadn't warned Byers about that, before he realised he sort of had. Still, just because Reid found the incessant dribbling of his dick attractive...   
  
But, Byers took a deep breath, eyeing the dripping cock in front of him and obviously squaring himself up. His shoulders picked up and his chin lifted, and then he opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along the frenulum.  
  
Langly's next breath stuttered hard, and he wobbled. "Okay! Did not think this all the way through! I am... going to sit down before I fall on your face and kill us both."  
  
The couch squeaked, as Reid got up, leaving his coffee on the little table beside the arm. "Or I could hold you up," he offered.  
  
"Mmmm, no. That would be hot, but I would feel a lot better with my ass on a flat surface." Langly eyed the arm of the couch. "Or a slightly rounded surface."  
  
He switched the hand he was holding Byers's tie with, moving the grip back in front of him as he stepped back, dripping on the floor and on the tie. Byers went to stand up and Langly tugged him back to his knees.  
  
"Did I say you could get up?"  
  
Byers panted and shivered, eyes locked on Langly's hand. Not yet, he'd been so good. He could wait a little longer. But, shuffling across the floor on his knees put pressure and friction in slightly different places than walking, and the sensation was so very tempting. All it would take was a touch.  
  
Langly sat on the edge of the arm of the couch, legs spread, every inch a vision of debauchery, particularly those five inches Byers found his eyes drawn back to. And then his lips.  
  
"God, that's good..." And Langly caught the change in Byers's eyes at those words, the sudden excitement. There was something there, and he tried again. "You're so good at that."  
  
And Byers made a sound that could only be described as purring, his tongue pressed to Langly's flesh, chasing the drips before they could get cold. Langly's words were as warm as his dick, and Byers craved both equally, trying so hard to keep his hands on Langly and off himself.  
  
"God, Byers, that's almost perfect. If you've never done this before, there should be a shrine to your mouth."  
  
Byers groaned in frustration, lips parted around the side of the shaft, as his back arched and his hips rolled. He wanted this. He wanted to be wanted like this. And whether or not he'd have admitted it even yesterday, he wanted _Langly_ to want him like this. The tightness of his pants had become an ache in his blood, and he let blind desire push him further than he'd have gone without it, turning his head to take the very tip of Langly's cock into his mouth, sucking and licking at the dripping slit.  
  
Langly threw his head back, a loud moan twisting up from the depths of him, and he jerked Byers's tie as his shoulders pulled back and his arms tensed. Two down, but this wouldn't take long, like that.  
  
" _Please_ ," he begged, losing any pretence at being in full control of the situation. "You're so fucking good, Byers -- just -- please -- _yes_!"  
  
And with the last hint of control he still had, Langly pulled himself out of Byers's mouth, not to choke him, instead spurting the dregs of the night across Byers's cheek. Right. _Three_. There was almost nothing left. Better to be kind, right?  
  
He tipped his head back down and cupped his hand against Byers's cheek, taking in Byers's stunned wide eyes and still open mouth, the trembling that ran through Byers's entire body.  
  
"You look so good like this," Langly said again, as words came back to him, wiping Byers's cheek with his thumb and offering it. When Byers's lips closed on his thumb, eyes drifting shut in nearly meditative contemplation, he finished the thought. "You're incredible. That was amazing. If I'd known you were this good, I'd have been begging for you, years ago."  
  
And Byers sucked harder, rubbing his tongue over Langly's thumb, and revelling in the sensation. Soon, he told himself. Maybe now. His hands slid down Langly's thighs, dropping back into his lap.  
  
Byers's eyes rounded as Langly's thumb slid out of his mouth, Langly's voice cutting through him like an icy wind.  
  
"Did I _say_ you could touch yourself?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is at _least_ one more chapter, possibly two, depending on how this comes together...


	6. Chapter 6

Reid appeared next to Langly with a warm washcloth, reaching over Byers's arm to wipe his face, and Byers looked longingly up at him, eyes bright and wet and so very blue.  
  
"You do have very nice eyes," Reid admitted, carefully swabbing a smear off Byers's eyebrow, noting how Byers's hands gripped Langly's legs even tighter.  
  
"What do you think, Reid? I see the way he's looking at you. You want to give him something else to suck?" Langly leaned back, one hand behind him, the other still holding Byers's tie.  
  
"No." Reid leaned down and kissed Langly, wiping up the mess Langly had made of the edge of the couch and the front of his jeans. "I'm fine just watching."  
  
"Mmm, you want to touch _me_ some more, like that?" Langly smiled teasingly up at Reid, eyes darting down to Byers and back as he raised an eyebrow.  
  
" _You_? Yes."  
  
Byers watched, from the floor, hands still on Langly's thighs, as Reid folded the washcloth neatly -- one-handed, which was the real feat -- and tucked it between Langly's thighs, still spread wide enough that his knees rested to the sides of Byers's shoulders. Reid's long fingers toyed with Langly's softening flesh, always angled so Byers could see more than just the back of his hand, and Langly made the most incredible, desperate sounds into Reid's mouth, his thighs tensing under Byers's hands.  
  
They were doing this. They were doing this right in front of him, right where he could see it. They were doing this _for_ him. And that thought shot through him, a twinge that bit at all his nerves, on the way down, and it was force of will alone that kept him from giving in to that delicious sensation and the feel of the crotch seam of his pants digging into him. All he'd have to do was tip his hips a little. Langly just said he couldn't use his _hands_.  
  
But, no. Byers understood the intent, as much as he might want to ignore that, and he wouldn't disobey it. He'd been so good, and he could wait just a little longer. He could wait just a little longer, while he watched what he'd only gotten to hear, until now, while they fed his fantasies. He wanted all of this, everything they would give him.  
  
Langly muttered something, but the words vanished into Reid's mouth, and Reid pulled back to look at Byers, eyes hungry, but not for him.  
  
"Later," Reid promised, leaning down for another quick kiss. He hesitated as he slid his hand down Langly's wrung-out shaft one more time, a dribble running down the back of his hand. The hand twitched toward Byers, which was also away from Langly's crotch, but he didn't make the offer, to Byers's lasting regret, instead picking up the washcloth, as he stepped back, and wiping his hand.  
  
Langly sat up, leaning down over Byers. "Don't want you to think I forgot about you."  
  
"I would never," Byers protested firmly, but quietly, looking ever-so-hopefully up into Langly's eyes. "You're here at all. You let me touch you, taste you, even."  
  
"And you've been so good at following the directions, haven't you?"  
  
Byers nodded, squeezing Langly's thighs as a reminder of where his hands were. "I've been trying..."  
  
"Does it hurt, yet?" Langly tugged at Byers's tie, bringing him up until they were almost eye to eye, as long as Langly didn't sit up. "You've been so good, saving yourself for me."  
  
Byers made an incoherent strangled sound, before he remembered how to make words. "I can wait for you," he promised. "If you want me, I can wait for you."  
  
"Like you waited thirty years for Susanne," Langly drawled, unable to resist the jab. "No, I've seen you wait. I think the problem here is that you just... wait for things to happen to you. So, now you've got me, and I'm going to happen to you."  
  
Byers's eyes darted down to Langly's limp dick.  
  
"Shame, Byers. You think that's going to be a problem? I don't think I'm even going to need it." The next words went straight into Byers's ear, as Langly leaned just a little further. "You've been so good, I bet I could just tell you to come, and you'd do it."  
  
Byers made an agonised sound, knowing that wasn't an actual request to do so.  
  
"Actually, he probably would, in the right state of mind, and if this isn't it, it's certainly a neighbouring state," Reid pointed out, picking up his coffee, again, and taking a seat on the other arm of the couch, seemingly unaffected, but for the way he tugged at his trouser leg, as he sat.  
  
"You want me to, don't you? But, I'm not going to." Langly watched the disappointment blossom in Byers's eyes, a desperate edge to it, now, and he closed the slim gap between them, kissing Byers firmly on the lips.   
  
"Get up," he commanded, letting go of Byers's tie.  
  
Byers looked completely horrified, suddenly wondering what he'd done wrong, as Langly buttoned up his jeans.  
  
"Byers, _get up_." Langly nudged him with one foot. "It's going to be really difficult for me to make with the happy fun times, if I can't reach you because you're sitting on my feet."  
  
Byers rocked back, staggering as he let the momentum carry him up, tie askew, trousers stretched uncomfortably. This was just a change in position, and he hoped it would be the last. He hoped Langly would have mercy on him.  
  
Langly adjusted his jeans as he stood -- buttoning them sitting down always made them sit weird -- and gestured at the wall next to the couch. "Back to the wall, so I don't knock you on your ass." He looked at Byers over the top of his glasses, head still tipped down from studying his jeans. "If you want me to knock you on your ass and plow it like a cornfield, you're going to have to catch me earlier in the night. And ... maybe just a little less drunk."  
  
A shaky, nervous sound slipped out of Byers. Did he want that? Did he want Langly to ... do that to him? If he was honest about it, yes. Yes, he did. But, he'd be taking Reid's word for what a good idea that would be, and ... well, Reid's word had been trustworthy, so far. Even if this would be less Reid's word than his enthusiastic moans.  
  
Langly stepped in close, not quite touching Byers. "Hands over your head, so I can reach your wrists."  
  
Watching Langly warily, Byers moved slowly, lifting his arms until he could bend them over the top of his head. Langly's hand stretched around his wrists, pinning them to the wall, and Byers writhed, knowing whatever came next would be the end, for him. This was too much.  
  
It started with a gentle kiss, lips to lips, warm, but little more. As Byers began to relax into it, Langly started to suck and nip at his lips, just enough to tease. Byers whined, wordless and desperate, most of his attention focused on keeping control of himself, the throbbing against the curve of his hip, the slowly widening damp spot. By the time the kiss had turned passionate, Langly kissing with a raw hunger Byers had never imagined of him, Byers was reduced to ragged panting and sounds of muffled desperation with every breath.  
  
"Do you want me?" Langly whispered, as if he might not know, as if he might not let this continue to its obvious conclusion.  
  
"Yes," Byers wailed, loud enough to have sudden concerns he might have woken Frohike. He went on to plead more quietly, but no less desperately. "Please, Langly, _please_!"  
  
"You've been _so_ good, haven't you? You've waited _so long_..." Langly pressed his thigh between Byers's, watching the sudden dread light in Byers's eyes. "Just a little longer."  
  
"Langly, please, I _can't_..."  
  
Langly flexed his thigh. "Yes, you can. You've waited this long."  
  
Byers's breath stuttered with panic as he tried to think of anything else -- anything but the fact that Langly had him pinned to the wall, rubbing hard against him. He was so close. He was too close.  
  
"Thirty years for Susanne and two weeks for me," Langly breathed against Byers's ear. "You've waited long enough, haven't you? Come for me, Byers. I'm right here, and I want to watch you. I want to feel you come."  
  
Byers could feel his entire body tense at those words, and then it was like a dam breaking, the ache amplified by every pulse as he pressed himself painfully hard against Langly's thigh. His body twisted, every muscle in it flexing out of time with the rest, and he sobbed with some combination of guilt and relief.  
  
"Shh..." Langly felt Byers get suddenly heavy against his thumb and his thigh, and he slowly let go of Byers's wrists. "Come on, hands on me. You're going to bed. Hold on to me, Byers."  
  
Clinging to the back of Langly's shirt, Byers let himself be moved as Langly hooked an arm under his ass and lifted. Still sniffling, he picked up his legs, as Langly staggered the few feet to the bed.  
  
"What do I always tell you about crying?" Langly asked, hoping Reid would take the hint.  
  
"Not to get snot in your hair," Byers mumbled, mortified at the thought he might have, as Langly poured him into bed.  
  
"This _once_ , I may give you a pass on that, because I'm pretty sure I got your hair first." Langly sat down hard on the edge of the bed, glasses askew, looking every bit as drunk as he had to have been by then. "But, you missed the other half. 'I love you, Byers, _but_...' Except this time it's 'but if you ever do this to yourself again, I'm going to kick you in the dingle'. I'm fucking serious. Jerk off or something. Yes, even if you're listening to us. Or if you want something a little more fun, catch me before my first coffee. It's almost as good as being drunk and less likely to end with me puking on the floor."  
  
Reid appeared at Langly's shoulder and handed Byers a roll of toilet paper. "You should probably blow your nose. That's a very nice suit."  
  
Langly pulled himself up, holding on to Reid with both hands. "Get some sleep, Byers. I'm gonna go back to bed. Loudly, if at all possible."  
  
Reid protested, as he got a better grip on Langly. "Langly, that's going to be _four_. And you're drunk. Are you sure that's--"  
  
"Should give him something to fall asleep to. We're nice like that." Langly straightened his glasses with one hand, and then turned around, pulling Reid with him, to head for the door. "Night, Byers!"  
  
"You know," Reid confessed, as they left the room, "I was considering it, but I'd much rather have you _between_ us. I just can't--"  
  
The door swung solidly shut, cutting off the rest of the thought.


End file.
